


It's You

by Resurrect



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Post Fall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:52:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11030919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resurrect/pseuds/Resurrect
Summary: Her words were cut off as Gabriel grabbed her throat, pushing her back into a wall. “I’m not here for a reunion.” She struggled against his grip, already gasping at pulling at his hands with her sub-par strength. Angela weakly kicked and pulled at his ironclad grip.“Then w-” She struggled to speak, clawing at Gabriel’s hands.“If you’d shut up I could tell you,” He cut her off.After a moment of deliberate silence, he spoke. “Fix me.”





	It's You

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place a while, but not too long, after the fall of Overwatch. Operates off the theory that Mercy saved Gabriel and knows that he's Reaper, and the idea that he doesn't want to STAY Reaper.

“Gabriel,” Angela breathed, not even lifting her head from the terminal in front of her. She pushed her chair away from the desk, a little harsher than she intended. It sent her back a little ways and she dug her heels in the ground to stop it. She wasn’t worried about running into Gabriel- moreso about rolling the rest of the way across the room and making herself look like even more of a mindless dolt than she already had. Scrambling to her feet, Angela smoothed her hands over the dirty button-up to make herself look more presentable. Old habits die hard, just like super soldiers. 

By the time she’d turned around to face him, he’d already gone. She could still see a faint wisp of dark smoke. Even without it she could’ve located him. That sound, the hissing, had ingrained itself into her mind long ago.

 

-

 

It had been months since the fall. Months since Angela let him, the two of them,  _ all of them _ down. Jack’s fix was substantially easier than Gabriel’s. A tricky surgery nonetheless, but not a resurrection. At the time of his revival, Gabriel could have been considered a new-age Lazarus, if only anyone had known about it. He convinced Angela that it would be in her best interest to keep it a secret- she could still feel the scars on her arms from when she tried to save the burning paperwork. Now all she had were the security tapes, from a system so old and outdated even Gabriel had forgotten about it. It was grainy and inefficient but all she had to study the medical mystery, the only hope to recreate it. Genji was the only case remotely close to this, but it was still incomparable. The only part she could remember of Gabriel’s surgery was the _ sound _ , of all things. It was if she had done the operation with her eyes closed. The hiss of the oxygen tank, metal scalpel hitting the tray, and that faint sound of- of  _ something _ . Something vaporous like wind or steam, yet unfamiliar. So unnatural and thoroughly indescribable. For weeks Angela had nightmares revolving around that sound. She prayed more often during those times, feeling like she was doing something only God had the right to. Would she be the next Pandora? The next woman in a sorry line to empty Hell and loose the demons on Earth? Despite the despair welling up inside her, she couldn’t find the will to stop. It was like she herself was the demon. Thoroughly possessed by the need to do more, be more. The thought of saving a friend contributed to that need, sure. As did wanting to make the world a better place. But, like every other momentous success in her life, it was driven by the greedy urge to be the best. To show those that doubted her because of age, gender, or anything else that she was undeniably above them in every way. 

As she operated, she felt like she was the stupid one from a horror movie. The one that goes into the woods alone, or decides it would be best to split up. Chills ran up her spine every time she truly thought about what she was doing. Increible work, ground-breaking,  _ potentially damning _ . She didn’t know if she should be relieved or scared when Gabriel grabbed her arm as she was preparing to pack up her equipment after the ‘failure’. His heart had officially stopped beating and she reluctantly declared his time of death. “ _ Apparently not _ ,” was her first thought. Her second was “ _ Holy shit he’s alive, oh my god, I’ve done it, Gabriel! _ ” He rasped something out. It was faint, like he was talking to her through a wind tunnel. 

“What? Gabriel, what is it?” Angela leaned in close. She’d never be willing to admit that she expected some immediate praise or thanks. What she got was nearly the opposite.

His grip on her arm tightened. “ _ What have you done to me _ ?”

 

-

 

Angela whipped around to the noise, grimacing. She wanted to smile. She wanted to be happy that he came back to her, after all this time. But that noise… It still sent the same chills down her spine and, remembering his reaction upon waking up, it made her feel like she’d done something horribly wrong. “Why are-” 

Her words were cut off as Gabriel grabbed her throat, pushing her back into a wall. “I’m not here for a reunion.” She struggled against his grip, already gasping at pulling at his hands with her subpar strength. Angela weakly kicked and pulled at his ironclad grip.

“Then w-” She struggled to speak, clawing at Gabriel’s hands.

“ _ If you’d shut up I could tell you _ .” He cut her off. He’d taken his signature mask off once he’d gotten close to her shabby hide-away office, revealing his decaying face. He deemed it as something she needed to see. Even after he’d adjusted to a life of hiding and secrets, he’d never gotten used to the way his face looked. It would always be disturbing to see part of his exposed jawbone, or the way the thick smoke enveloping him never seemed to dissipate entirely. She’d have to get used to it pretty fast, though. At least, find some way to deal with it. It was a small revenge he could have on her without any drawbacks. He couldn’t kill her yet- he, although he hated to admit it, needed her help. And, more than that, he liked to think he was better than that. Than  _ her _ . To not take a ‘friend’s’ life into his own hands and ruin it, the way she ruined his. After a moment of deliberate silence, he spoke. “Fix me.”

“Wh-  _ fix _ you?” Despite hardly being able to talk, Angela still managed to sound incredulous. She continued to claw at his hands and he, realizing he would still maintain a firm advantage if she were to try and fight him, let her down. She could see his hand slip down to his waist, ready to draw his shotguns. Point-blank range; no easy way for her to weasel her way out of this fight, as is customary of a wise field medic. She’d never been a particularly wise field medic though. “Fix you  _ how _ ?”

“You think I know? I’m not the surgeon here, doc.”

“Well, I don’t know, either! Maybe you shouldn't have burned-”

“Maybe you should take a look around and see who has a gun, then do whatever the fuck they want you to.”

“ _ Maybe you should stop underestimating me, Gabriel _ .” Angela quickly drew her caduceus blaster from the waistband of her pants, leveling it at his forehead before he could blink. She shifted as subtly as she could, ready to sidestep the inevitable shotgun blast to her side. She practically flinched when he laughed instead. 

“Go ahead. Do it. Lotta maybes here- I’ll toss in one more. Maybe it’ll work. If anyone can kill me, it’s you,” he said. Gabriel shook his head, crossing his arms nonchalantly. Angela didn’t lower her gun, but she didn’t pull the trigger. “I knew you wouldn’t do it.” 

Before he could say anything else, Angela fired a quick shot into his foot and made a break for the door. She could hear him cussing behind her, and his heavy footsteps following her into the hall. ‘Immortal’ her ass- anything can be killed. She of all people was truly aware of that. She could hear his taunting in her head, echoing around. Who was he to doubt her? He’d seen what she was capable of. He was the product of her capability and the thought of someone so openly doubting her made her blood boil, even at a time like this. He was one among many; everyone doubted her at this point. Maybe not personally, but as an ex-Overwatch member, she didn’t instill much confidence. Gabriel’s right, she decided.

_ If anyone can kill him it’s me _ . Maybe it’s time to put a stop to all this- Heaven knows her aim is a bit rusty, but if a doctor’s precision is all they have. Besides, this gun was her only hope. If he caught up to her, which he would eventually, she’d be dead; hand-to-hand was never her strong suit.  _ Especially _ against the very man who taught her everything she knew on the subject. Angela continued to run. The door was in sight; it’d be so easy to just slip past him, but then she heard his laughter echoing down the hallway. This living nightmare, the one the haunted her day and night… She was sick of it. She turned on her heel and fired three quick shots from her blaster, aiming at eye level for someone of Gabriel’s height. Angela expected to her some kind of noise; yelling, a thud,  _ anything _ . But all she heard was that damned laughter, and that familiar sound. The hissing of Reaper, right behind her. 

She didn’t have to look to know he was there. The sound gave him away, along with the chill that ran down her spine any time he was near. “How did you-”

Angela was cut off by Gabriel disarming her quickly. He grabbed the gun and shoved her to the ground (inwardly, she said he’d only been able to do that because she’d been caught off guard), all while talking with that same insufferable smugness. “‘I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live, even after dying.’ Wasn’t that what you said, during your little speech? That funny little triumphant one. Right after you got my heart started back up, when it was just you, me, and that handful of ‘trustworthy’ nurses.  _ Before _ you ruined me.”

“I-”

“You used to be such a goody-two-shoes, you know. So religious too. Now who do you pray to? Yourself?” He laughed again. It sounded so… Genuine. If it weren’t for the hissing, she could’ve mistaken him as the  _ old _ Gabriel. The one who laughed at her jokes and ruffled her hair, and treated her like a little sister. But that damn hissing, always ruining everything. “Man. We were family. I would’ve done _ so much _ for you back then.”

“We could always-”

“Don’t even ask to ‘go back to the way it used to be’, though. I hate a lot of people but, damn, you’re at the top of my shit list. Have been for a long time. If you won’t help, I at least look forward to crossing you name off my list.”

He took out one of his shot guns. The ones so similar to the ones he used to carry; what was it with her, suddenly reminiscing about the ‘good old days’ when she was about to be killed? Maybe it was because a connection to that time was standing in front of her, telling her how much she’d fucked up between then and now. Angela panicked. “I NEVER SAID I WOULDN’T HELP YOU!” She practically screamed it. She hadn’t moved an inch, though- she didn’t put it past Gabriel to fire just because she’d so much as twitched.

Gabriel lowered the shotgun slightly. “Oh really?” He sounded incredulous, “I figured the running was a solid ‘no.’”

“I just- you startled me. And I don’t know what you want from me.”

“You’ve never been one to startle easily, doc. If I remember right, you always had that will of iron- you goin’ soft in old age?” He laughed again, but this time it was crueler. “I already  _ told _ you what I want.”

“Yes, but-” Angela stammered, rubbing her forehead with her hands, “but I- I have no documentation of the procedure. And all of the staff have… ‘Passed’... As you are no doubt aware of, and- I have no equipment.” She made up excuse after excuse. At this moment she didn’t know if she actually wanted to help him, but anything would be better than the abrupt death that awaited her if she stopped talking. At least if she distracted him with flaws in his brilliant plan she’d have time to come up with  _ some _ manner of escaping this situation.

“Well then,” he swooped down low, grabbing the lapels of her dirty lab coat and hauling her up by them, “I guess you’ll have to  _ figure it out _ .”

‘He needs me,’ she tells herself. ‘I’m the only one that can fix him, even if I don’t know how yet. He can’t kill me.’ That doesn’t stop her from panicking.

Angela gripped at his hands with white knuckles, holding on so hard her joints hurt. She eyed the shotgun in his other hand and, when it began to move, her breath caught. It was quite the shock when he dropped the gun and grabbed her chin. The metal claws on his gloves dug into her chin, threatening to pierce the skin. He turned her face towards him, forcing her to look him in the eye. She could see that smoke wisping about his figure. The smoke that defied science. When she looked in his eyes, the hissing seemed louder than ever. A certain deadness lay there, deader than the milky whiteness of the jawbone jutting out of his teeth. Eyes marginally darker than they’d been in life. Angela knew deadness though. Black holes for eyes. She was familiar with it, both in patients and herself. The symptom of lifelong depression that only seemed to fade when anger set in. And, there it was; the anger. Taking over his eyes, knitting his brow, clenching his jaw, tightening his hold on her chin. It wasn’t the same cold, seething anger she saw in herself every time she looked in the mirror though. It was more than that. An anger he didn’t know how to live without, that had become intrinsically entwined in his being when his heart stopped. An rage that demanded justice, that demanded that wrongs be corrected. That fire was directed at her, at this moment, but Angela knew that there were many others who demanded it’s attention. ‘The People that Destroyed Gabriel Reyes’, she appropriately titled the ‘shit-list’, as he’d called it, of foes he no doubt had on his person. 

“Gabriel,” she whispered. Part of her wanted to take this moment to reach out to him. To assure him that he’d always meant so much to her, and that she’d put so much towards saving him because she  _ cared _ , and she  _ missed him _ . The larger part of her wanted to manipulate him and use this moment of raw emotion to escape. “It doesn’t have to be this way. We can change. Together.” She didn’t know which part of her was speaking at that moment.

“Save your sappy happy ending for someone who wants it. I know you’d still gut me like a fish if I gave you the chance.” He pushed her away. The moment of vulnerability, looking past his walls, was gone. His voice went cold and he picked up his shotgun. “Follow me if you want to live.”

“Wait- that’s- isn’t that a quote from a movie you and Jack used to watch all the time? That old one-” Angela clambered up, following him at a safe distance. Maybe this is another chance to get close to him, to pick at his defenses. If he still cares about Jack, after all this, there has to be  _ something _ left she can appeal to.

Gabriel visibly bristled at Jack’s name. He quickly turned to face her, snapping, “For christ’s sake, Angela, not everything is about you, or Jack, or Overwatch. Why do you think I came to visit  _ you _ , huh?” He took a step towards her, pointing at her accusingly. “Because I miss you so much? Because I miss you hanging around me like a clingy monkey, acting like I’m some sweet puppy, adopting me into your little family? News flash, Angela: not everyone’s an orphan. Not everyone’s looking for a new family. I’m certainly not; at least not in  _ you _ , of all people.” 

Angela fell back a little. She knew that he hated her now, sure. She can’t say she was too fond of him at this moment either but, for so long, it had been her memory of the past that drove her. The memory of her successful parents urging her to graduate college years early. The memory of her uppity peers, urging her to become something great. Her memories of Overwatch, her little family there, urging her to do something, anything, to save two of the people her mattered most to her. “Memories are all I have,” she whispered. She didn’t even mean to say it out loud, but it just slipped. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t want your memories. I came for you because you’re useful.”

Did he really never care? This wasn’t the time to ask, Angela knew. He had every advantage over her. She followed complacently, for the first time in a long time. There was no getting out of this one. Her gun is nowhere to be found- she isn’t sure if Gabriel has it, or if he just simply left it where it was thrown. Either way, it was of little use to her now. Angela took her mind off the small amount of heartbreak left over from all those years ago and put it on something that could help her. She analyzed Gabriel, mainly watching for any sign of weakness. Any signs of fatigue, favoring one side- wait a second. Which foot had she shot him in? He wasn’t limping at all. In fact, he looked right as rain. Unless he was playing some intense mind games she was sure she’d shot him. She’d  _ heard _ him yell, and had gotten a head start, after all.

_ Unless he was playing some intense mind games _ . Making her think she had an advantage, letting her run, destroying her hope… She wouldn’t put that ability, or the willingness to use it, past him. Overwatch had tortured a fair amount of enemies to get information and Gabriel had been the head of Blackwatch for a reason. A soldier before anything else. Watching him stride forward confidently, she finally understood what it must’ve been like for someone like Genji or Mccree. Maybe that didn’t rally because the cause was just; at this moment, she wouldn’t have blamed them for picking whichever side had a gun pointed at them. At least it was keeping her alive, at this moment. 

They neared the door. Angela expected some kind of ambush when she got outside. A bag over the head and a club to the ribs. She had her arms wrapped around herself, bracing for the attack she knew was coming.

And then it didn’t. Then she waited for a bit longer, and it  _ still _ didn’t come.

Gabriel had gotten a fair distance ahead of her. “What are you waiting for? Move!” He snapped, urging her to follow him more closely. She submitted, rushing to fall in line a few paces behind him. 

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere.”

“ _ Where _ ?” She prodded. It was chilly outside, and she kept her arms wrapped around her. Partially because she still expected some kind of ambush. Her hair whipped around her face and she wanted nothing more than a jacket and a hair tie. Maybe her gun as well, if someone was granting her requests.

Angela could practically feel him roll his eyes. “You ask too many questions. Walk faster. I don’t want you out of my sight.”

She reluctantly started to walk faster, moving to walk next to him rather than behind. It was more like a jog; he was taller and she had to take a few steps to keep up with his lengthy strides. She was getting out of shape. He was right; time out of the battlefield was making her soft. He reached into that getup of his and pulled out him infamous mask. Angela watched as he secured it to his face. It was a relief to not see as much bone or smoke or hateful eyes, but the emotionless mask was still intimidating. Enough so to keep an unarmed doctor in line. At least, until it was a smart idea to strike.

She falls silent again. She could wheedle him again later. Her position was a valuable one at this moment, but she wasn’t confident enough in her assessment to risk her life by talking too much. Angela was surprised he hadn’t bound her hands, but she supposed that was for posterity. He could explain a silly costume, or simply disappear and leave Angela to explain to passersby that she’s just out for a contemplative walk. She’d have to go along- he knew that she knew that. If not, he’d kill her, or the innocent people caught in the crossfire.

_ ‘Damn. He doesn’t even need rope to tangle me up in a spider’s web.’ _


End file.
